Page 3 of Strangers She Knows

Skill.

In his ears, he could hear each beat of his heart, and with each beat, he knew the powerful muscle contracted, pushing blood into his chest cavity.

Beat.

He writhed. He fell.

Beat.

Miranda Nyugen picked up the gruesome souvenir on the step.

Beat.

She placed it lovingly into her backpack.

Beat.

She leaned into the coffin, extracted something, dropped it into her backpack.

Beat.

She used one of the brass candlesticks to shatter one of their prized stained glass windows. Dark rushed in, misting his eyes with night.

She dragged a chair over, got ready to climb out.

Someone screamed. Cynthia screamed.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

Miranda turned back, and all he could see was the porcelain gleam of her teeth as she smiled that terrible smile.

No, Cynthia. Run away!

He waited for the next beat.

It never came.

He never knew it. Not in this world.

2

If there’s one thing that’s worse than not waking up after brain surgery, it’s waking up after brain surgery. No matter how brilliant the surgeon, having someone poke around in your brain results in bruising and swelling and disconnected nerves.

For the surgeon, success equates a patient who comes to consciousness and is not in a vegetative state.

For the bruised and swollen brain patient, success equates sitting up and not falling over, learning to hold a spoon and use it (FYI, sticking it in your eye hurts), and being able to complete a sentence without forgetting half the words. Let’s not even talk about potty training for adults.

Oh! And may I say, the medical staff gets agitated when a person (me) gets confused about her first name.

My husband, Max, told them not to worry.

That’s because he knows the truth. I was born Cecilia, got married too young, was the victim of an abusive husband who had murder/suicided my cousin Kellen Rae Adams and then himself when she had come to rescue me. Being dumb, young and scared (I know, excuses! But I’m trying to give you the whole picture), I took her identification and ran with it. I made every bad decision, had been as cowardly as it was possible for a person to be, but then…then I grew. I made the decision to truly be Kellen, to live for my cousin, to make myself worthy of my new name.

A six-year stint in the US Army had helped with that.

Except apparently after brain surgery, when I had flashbacks.

I know. I should be glad that I opened my eyes and once again saw my daughter and my husband, knew who they were, had their support and their love.

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